


mistletoe wreath

by serein (koshitsu_kamira)



Category: NCT (Band), SM Rookies
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, M/M, Mistletoe, Nymphs & Dryads, Platonic Kissing, Surprise Kissing, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:57:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9083221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/serein
Summary: Taeil's day just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my beloved readers.

As a seventh year student Taeil should have been worried about the looming N. E. W. T. exams or the lengthy essays assigned over the break, instead of staring at himself in the bathroom mirror with increasing desperation, attempting to will away the tangle of green stalks, young leaves and pale, tiny buds peeking through the messy tresses he hadn’t combed yet. Poking a delicate stem near the hairline, he winced as pinpricks of pain travelled along his spine, the unpleasant sensation an indicator that he was in for the long haul, meaning the chance mistletoe wreath must remain around his head until the plant reached full maturity and thus could be removed safely; Taeil usually spent the period bedridden, confined within the infirmary where Healer Zhang monitored his condition.

 _Viscumitis_ , a malady which mainly attacked tree nymphs, occurred during the winter months while the body’s defense mechanisms were ailing due to the cold, the lack of sunlight, proper nourishment or generally speaking, increased stress levels, causing melancholy, fatigue, muscle ache, nausea, the signs quite similar to seasonal flu symptoms, aside from the obnoxious bundle of mistletoe. Although dryad heritage commonly remained dormant in male offsprings who most often inherited a great love for nature, agility, physical beauty and innate gardening skills, Taeil somehow displayed the characteristic traits of full-fledged nymphs, granted he fortunately wasn’t bound to a single tree, could enjoy the freedom of choices, unlike his sister, Yerim.

Foreseeing the curious stares he would receive all day since the concealment charm was useless against a plant which fed upon magical energy, Taeil sighed, eventually leaving the washroom, meanwhile pondering whether he should just visit the infirmary to obtain an excuse note and perhaps hole up at the kitchens where everything needed would be at arm’s length. The thought was incongruous with his principles, but desperate times called for equal measures, he surmised before bounding down the staircase, almost crashing right into a harried looking Doyoung whose first sentence was “someone pulled a prank on you, let me me help,” followed by a flurry of elaborate hand movements, the spell _evanesco_ muttered under breath. As expected, the mistletoe crown didn’t budge, causing the fellow Ravenclaw to frown deeply, confusion marring his countenance - “wouldn’t have worked anyway, don’t worry,” Taeil consoled the distraught boy, interrupting the fretful exclamations, “it’s complicated,” he offered, knees nearly buckling in shock when the students having gathered downstairs started chanting, “kiss!”

Eyes wide, affronted, Taeil had prepared docking points for the unnecessary havoc, except Doyoung chose that exact moment to peck the elder’s lips, lightning quick, making the crowd burst out in cheers, while the culprit bolted away afterwards, the tip of his ears growing vivid red, “please don’t be mad,” he babbled, voice shaking a bit, gaze sparkling endearingly shy. Defenseless, Taeil waved off the half-hearted apology, shaking his head as he joined the people ambling towards the Great Hall, ignoring the incessant giggles ringing through the corridors; with his poor luck the whole castle would be aware of his current predicament, leaving him no options other than attending the classes and dodging the inevitable questions.

Turning left around the corner, Taeil braced himself against the reactions, adapting an expressionless facade, jaw locked, however his efforts went to waste the minute skinny arms pulled him inside a dingy alcove, hidden behind a tapestry - “please, don’t scream,” someone whispered, laughter coloring the words; the next thing he registered was three smaller forms pushing close, then came the unmistakable feeling of wet smooches above his cheeks. “Merlin’s pants,” Taeil gasped, collapsing onto the marble floor whereas the insufferable trio kept shrieking, heedless of the commotion they caused, “you should have known better, Renjun,” he later admonished the first year student from his house, once the boy regained the composure to help the elder stand, “Jisung and Chenle creates enough trouble, do me favour by not joining their rank.”

The younger beamed innocently, shrug careless, “so you would get better soon,” he commented, the pair of Slytherins nodding in tandem at the back, “a little birdy told us,” Jisung chimed in, head bobbing up and down, face perfectly serious, notwithstand Chenle giggling uncontrollably beside him, ruining the show, “they also said to spread the information.” Groaning aloud, Taeil briefly considered skipping the entire day, only his conscience would never allow such an act, especially when the missed subjects in question - double Potions, advanced Transfiguration - were required for mediwizard trainings; “gulping gargoyles,” he muttered, exasperated, absently letting the young boys accompany him to his original destination. Thankfully, breakfast was a quiet affair, albeit, paranoid, Taeil spent the whole time glancing over his shoulders, scrutinizing the clueless students around the area who in all honesty looked more preoccupied with the food than the conspicuous wreath sitting atop his skull; barring the occasional side-glances, barely concealed snickers, nobody tried sneaking him a kiss.

Transfiguration class had Taeil so aggravated, he even forgot about the vexing problem of mistletoe and jokesters, utterly intent on figuring out the proper way he could transform wood smoke into the assigned iguana, black stripes, iridescent scales included: thus far he managed a semi-transparent specimen whose hide stayed frustratingly grey monochrome. By the end of the lesson he was ready to jump off the astronomy tower without carrying a wand, head throbbing insistently, further heightening the foul mood that had plagued him since early morning, consequently he spent the lunch period shoving the food around the plate, appetite having banished - “can you pass me the salt?” asked Yuta, interrupting his gloomy thoughts. Nudging the dispenser in the Hufflepuff’s direction, Taeil wordlessly resumed his previous activity until he felt something warm brush against the downturned corner of his mouth; “thank you,” Yuta stated, half an inch away from the elder’s face, beam enthusiastic like nothing extraordinary had occurred a second ago, “you should eat up, the break will end in fifteen.” Shell-shocked, Taeil nodded mutely, then began stuffing himself as the younger babbled nonsense between the bites, seemingly unaware of the other’s growing embarrassment or the scarlet blush intensifying, climbing higher yet: Yuta shamelessly complained regarding the 6th years’ workload, the various assignments he couldn’t help but finish during the holidays. Ultimately their rather one-sided conversation ended when the younger rushed back to his quarters, having forgotten a textbook there, leaving Taeil vaguely breathless and disoriented on the stairwell, who nonetheless continued the journey toward the basement if not for the whirlwind of a person literally sweeping Ravenclaw prefect off his feet, concurrently sending parchment rolls, spare quills flying.

“Blimey,” the boy uttered, tall form sprawled all over Taeil, “I’m terribly sorry, does it hurt anywhere?” - certain that his entire backside would bear the painful reminders of this chance meeting, the elder mustered a weak “no,” before gesturing the other to get up lest they both received detention for tardiness, regardless their original intent, “I didn’t pay attention either,” he added. The Slytherin student grinned brightly in response and proceeded to gather their scattered belongings after having lent Taeil a hand; “just so you know,” he remarked, suddenly pausing, “my name is Sicheng,” then placed a chaste kiss on the frown creasing the elder’s forehead, the pressure gentle, “have a nice day,” he winked, swiftly disappearing the next moment. Sputtering, Taeil hugged the collected items to his chest, suppressing the awkward, high pitched squeak which threatened to escape his throat any minute now; cough dry, inhale long, he took measured steps along the hallway, virtually crashing inside the classroom three rounds of breathing exercises later, his unusual behaviour earning a concerned eyebrow raise from Professor Kim. Gaze fixed on the ground, Taeil scurried to his table, plopping down beside a soft gazed Taeyong, honorary member of the N. E. W. T. level course, and fellow prefect Hansol, the only person he trusted not to melt the cauldron or cause a minor disaster while concocting intricate potions: they remained each other's partner throughout the years by the implicit agreement they should survive the period with their limbs intact.

Feeling at ease in Hansol’s steady presence, Taeil allowed himself to relax, focus on the upcoming challenge revealed, the _Felix Felicis_ potion - “six months,” Taeyong murmured haltingly as the professor stated the details, a disheartening sign, considering the young Slytherin was labeled a prodigy, who tackled the most complex draughts and elixirs without breaking out in a cold sweat. Having compiled a note of the ingredients, Taeil abandoned his tablemates to obtain the Ashwinder eggs, also the Murtlap tentacles missing from the standard kits, the menial task calming his aggravated nerves, despite the headache having returned full steam; blood pressure finally corralled within the normal ranges, he didn’t even bat a single eyelash when Taeyong pressed a sweet peck onto the apple of his cheek instead saying “thank you” or Hansol casually kissing his burnt finger. After all Taeil hadn’t been sorted into Ravenclaw for no reasons, though he might have lacked the sly manner, the swiftness of mind the Slytherins commonly possessed, still, he discovered the pattern, the common denominator underlying, binding the events together; chuckling, the older boy carefully stirred the cauldron, watching the squill bulb dissolve in the mixture.

Spirit invigorated following the laborious hours slaving over the potion, the sense of accomplishment fulfilling, Taeil escaped the humid dungeons, bidding his partners goodbye, and enjoyed the mild draft cooling his skin, drying the sweat beaded on his temple; checking the mechanical timepiece he always carried around, the Ravenclaw student set a comfortable pace down the corridors. Loitering amid the animate portraits, limestone statues, he eventually reached the gate leading outside the quidditch pitch where the players of Gryffindor had already started the warm up drills; nodding at the captain hovering above the stands, Taeil occupied the lowest bench, assuming the familiar standby position: thanks to Healer Zhang he could perform basic first aid during ordinary trainings, treat bruises, sprains which would count as valid experience in his training applications. Normally he didn’t have a lot on the plate, excluding the superficial injuries from wild bludgers or strongly thrown quaffles; admittedly the tryouts required the most attention - for incomprehensible reasons first years loved executing difficult moves like the Sloth Grip Roll or the Dionysus Dive on the ancient school brooms, the enthusiastic attempts mainly resulting in broken arms, legs.

“Pretty headband, Nurse Moon,” hollered Youngho, whooshing past the elder before he swiftly diverted an oncoming ball, the hit resounding, “need a Hogsmeade date?” the beater jeered, dropping altitude till he was at eye level with Taeil, smirk visible, “we would have a good time, you know,” the boy drawled, tone suggestive, causing the other giggle out loud.

“Work harder on your pick up lines, Seo,” Taeil suggested, patting the younger’s shoulder plate when the Gryffindor deflated, resembling a kicked puppy, “Maybe the fourth year students would like your pitch,” he said, faking sympathy, then laughed as Youngho recoiled, stare incredulous; “you hurt my pride,” he declared, wearing a dramatic expression, and clutched at his chest, “now kiss it better.”

“Dream on,” Taeil replied in stitches, almost falling over the seat, thus he failed to notice Youngho having drawn near, stealing a quick kiss while the Ravenclaw prefect straightened up, wiping the tears off his face; “hey,” the older boy protested weakly, floundering; “you are less charming than a mountain troll,” he retorted, shouting after the cackling beater, a pout surfacing. Huffing albeit he wasn’t actually upset, Taeil resumed observing the training, enjoying the flawless teamwork displayed, the precise formations showcased: amongst the current Hogwarts quidditch teams, Gryffindor exhibited a highly coherent, organized game plan, a clear strategy even a Wizard’s Chess nerd like him could appreciate, a fact the elder kept secret for he didn’t want to upset their captain, Seungwan.

Warming his palms above the bluebell flames having conjured, Taeil began worrying the second he spotted the players flocking together, discussing a topic heatedly amidst rapid fire gesticulations in his general area, and the subsequent raucous laughter echoing through the field - “last one is the doxy egg,” screamed an excited Donghyuk, making a beeline for the flustered boy. Bracing himself, eyes closed, Taeil expected a collision but luckily the chaser stopped right in front of the elder, the polished broomstick handle poking him in the chest; “hello,” the third year greeted cheerfully, voice a pleasant tenor that became a rough grunt, a teammate having shoved the fellow Gryffindor aside, “bloody cheater,” Donghyuk grumbled whereas Chittaphon shrugged, smooching their temporary healer on the cheek. Swooping in, Jaehyun joined the beater, although he retained some courtesy to apologize thereafter, yet apparently not enough to prevent the other players from following suit, the members all pressing several kisses on the available space of Taeil’s face, propelling the helpless Ravenclaw between Youngho’s arms who readily held him in place; “Minhyung, you too?” he asked later, panting. Youngho huffed against Taeil’s neck, the sensation ticklish, “remember, don’t shoot the messenger,” he commented, belatedly releasing their squirming victim, patting down his wrinkled robe, “dine with us, my lord?” the younger queried then, deliberately using his exaggerated British accent which the other boy found hilarious, “you can kill people after eating.”

Stomach bloated, limbs heavy ensuing the annual Christmas feast, patrol duty felt especially refreshing, Taeil thought, roaming the murky hallways of the ground floor and checking the alcoves, hidden passages for the occasional wayfarer student or amorous couples seeking midnight thrills however inhospitable the castle would be hindmost the witching hour when the ghosts, including Peeves, haunted the building. Extinguishing the torch behind himself, the Ravenclaw prefect advanced onto the basement, humming a merry carol under his breath, footsteps unconsciously adjusting to the rhythm; downstairs he sent the loitering Hufflepuffs inside the common room, pretending he hadn’t noted the pumpkin pasties, assorted pie slices protruding out the juniors’ pockets. Task done, Taeil was about to ascend the stairs, except he glimpsed a giggling Jaemin holding enormous mugs of hot chocolate, accompanied by Jeno who carried plates overflowing with gingerbread cookies - the two froze upon realizing they had been caught red handed, blinking nervously as the elder approached them, “shoo, kids,” he waved the troublemakers away, sighing. Instead of beating a hasty retreat, the second years had the nerve to peck his jaw, not unlike excited crup puppies, wishing him nice holidays and a good night, before they disappeared in the underground tunnels leading towards their dormitory - shaking his head, amused, Taeil walked along the usual route, passing the Slytherin prefects ready to take over his duties.

Swallowing a yawn, Taeil whispered the solution of the riddle - _“The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?_ ” the raven had croaked - then entered the deserted lounge aside a lone figure, Qian Kun, huddled above a massive tome, making careful notes in his signature, widely envied penmanship; “tell me,” the elder started, mindful he shouldn’t alarm the other boy, “have you found a new script on fairyfolk courtship rituals?”

Kun paused writing, regarding Taeil with a cryptic smile, “grandfather did send me scrolls that I have studied lately,” he replied, alluding the extensive research the Qian family carried out  throughout the centuries concerning the species of the magical world, an investigation that also touched upon various nature deities, “but today I sought to confirm my own theory.” Beckoning the seventh year student to sit, Kun relaxed beside Taeil, abandoning the assignment on the table, “don’t you feel better?” he indicated the plant clinging onto the elder’s skull, prompting him to prod, inspect the mistletoe, “it grew a good deal, right?” gaze reflecting the moonlight illuminating the room, he drank in the pleased reaction evoked, commemorated the other’s amazed stare. When Taeil would have asked the question why, Kun continued his explanation, having guessed the other’s intention, “every divine spirit requires a measure of adoration to exist and even partial dryads are not exempt from the rule,” he disclosed, touching the crown briefly, “without devotion a deity falls victim to oblivion,” countenance dimming, he added, “demigods become ill, their fate gradual decline.”

Facing Taeil, he remained silent for a heartbeat, tracing the older boy’s delicate features, gentle, wistful eyes, “so did I pass the trial?” Kun inquired, voice silken, “you stated I was ignorant,” a wry grin, “that I would only keep you a trophy, value and see the single male nymph to ever reach adulthood,” glance pensive, he stared at the other, the atmosphere surrounding them intimate. Cradling Taeil’s jaw within his palms, Kun waited, patience unwavering despite the seconds passing by wordless; “I was wrong,” the elder admitted, pretenses having discarded, expression softening, “perhaps, you deserve a chance,” he concluded, allowing the other Ravenclaw to gather him close, wrap possessive arms around his waist - as they kissed, lips melding together, unbidden, the wreath blossomed.


End file.
